Shiddat

eight

Taha's POV

All the time, I am staring at her like a love sick teenager

After finishing her food, she hesitates to share the room with me.

I am in no mood to leave this room because she looks like my death; I want to devour her, and her peeking out pebbles are not doing any good to me.

Well, they are not so small, not so big, a perfect size for her age. If I stay here, I will definitely do something that I don't want to, so I make up my mind to go outside.

It's 4 am; after 2 hours, she'll be on my nikah, so I can wait 2 hours for sure.

So, I am leaving while saying, "Early morning, we'll be nikaahfied, so I will sleep in the hall today."

As soon as these words leave my mouth, her calmness turns into fury.

"What...?" she asks, trembling.

"That we are getting married after Fajr," I say in a dominating tone.

She gulps nervously, "No... please," she says, tears gathered in her eyes.

"I remain silent."

"Please, Taha, I will never tell anything about you. Please let me go; I don't want to marry you," she says, crying.

Wait? Is she thinking that I am marrying her because she knows about my work? Such a naive girl she is.

"You will marry me this morning, that's it," I say with authority.

"No...." she speaks anxiously in anger, her rose-tinted lips trembling, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Hearing 'No' from her mouth, it feels like my body is boiling with anger.

"I am Taha Aasif; no girl has ever said no to me."

In anger, I step towards her, gripping her waist with my hand, pulling her forcefully towards me, our chests colliding.

Suddenly, she looks at me with tension and innocent green eyes filled with fear.

These very eyes have turned my life into torment, disrupting the peace in my otherwise decent life.

"What's the problem with marrying me?" I ask in a suppressed, angry voice.

"Why... because... I..." she stammers, tears streaming down from her eyes.

I don't know why, but her tears pierce my heart every time. I don't know why I can't stand seeing tears in her eyes.

"What... Rubab..." I shout in anger, making her flinch.

"Because I know I am a sinner, but I am not impure like you. And Allah says pure women are for pure men, and impure women are for impure men," I look into her eyes while completing her sentence.

She lowers her gaze and nods slightly.

I know I'm an animal; I do any job that Rubab's Allah forbids. But that Allah never gave me anything. He took everything from me, but I won't let him take Rubab.

"So let's make it equal, future wife. I'll make you impure like me, then you'll agree to marry me, right?" I say, caressing her cheeks with the back of my palm and pressing my rough cigarette and alcohol-laden lips against her soft rose lips.

I kiss her like a toddler starving for milk.

God, her lips feel so good and soft against mine.

But she is not kissing me back; she is pushing me with her small fist.